


Dyrrachium

by Python07



Series: If Looks Could Kill [32]
Category: Forever (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Adam is immortal, Angst, Crack Crossover, Gen, Richelieu is immortal, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: The aftermath of the battle of Dyrrachium . Lucius (Richelieu) disappears and Sextus (Adam) has to find him.





	1. “We both know he’s alive.”

Caesar stopped looking at their anxious, exhausted faces. He pressed his lips together in a firm line and dismissed all of his aides and commanders with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t watch them file out of his tent. Sounds of the men working to hastily throw up a camp filtered in from outside. 

Caesar was covered in grime and sweat and his armor scuffed. There was dried blood from a gash on the side of his head and on his gladius. He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment and took a deep breath.

Sextus wordlessly stepped out of his shadowed corner. He wore his dark cloak and clothes and only carried his dagger and small pouch on his belt. He stepped up to Caesar and handed Caesar a small leather flask.

Caesar took a drink. He grunted at the burn. His mouth twisted into a grimace but he took another drink before handing the flask back to Sextus.

Sextus smirked and slipped it back into his pouch. He held Caesar’s gaze until Caesar gave a small nod. He started unbuckling Caesar’s armor. 

Caesar let Sextus unbuckle his sword and set it to the side. Next came his breastplate and he let his shoulders slump once it was gone. He remained quiet and still until he was down to only his sweaty tunic and barefoot.

Sextus pushed Caesar to sit down on the edge of his cot. He poured water into a small basin sitting on a stand nearby. He then proceeded to clean the blood off Caesar’s face. He met Caesar’s gaze. There was no judgment, only a quiet support.

Caesar endured grimly. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak.

Sextus finished and sat next to Caesar. He was close enough their shoulders brushed. He finally broke the silence. “We both know he’s alive.”

“I know.” Caesar unconsciously leaned into Sextus. He sighed heavily. “I should’ve listened.”

One end of Sextus’ mouth quirked up. He put an arm around Caesar’s shoulders. “I suppose you should’ve. Don’t worry. He’ll find many inventive ways to say he told you so.”

Caesar managed a small smile. “I will endure it with a smile.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “But what if he was captured?”

“Magnus still respects him.” Sextus chuckled. “Even if Magnus has come to despise you.”

Caesar bared his teeth and tensed. “I once counted Pompey a friend. He should’ve never become my enemy.” 

“He listened to all those old fools in the Senate. They played on his jealousy of your success,” Sextus stated matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t realize that they hate him as much as ever, but he’s weaker. He wants to be belong with the old Roman aristocracy. He can be manipulated and that makes him the lesser of two evils.”

Caesar slumped against Sextus again. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. His speech was quiet and slurred just a little. “I credited him with more sense, but it seems he didn’t only want to be First Man in Rome. He wanted to be the only man in Rome.”

Sextus stood only to ease Caesar into lying down. “Rest, cousin.”

Caesar tried to push Sextus away to no avail. “He’s gotten old and feeble. He should’ve pressed his advantage and it would’ve all been over. He knows how to win a fight but not the war.”

Sextus threw a blanket over Caesar. He sat on the edge of the cot next to him and ran his fingers through Caesar’s thinning hair. “Let us thank the gods that he didn’t.”

Whatever fight remained drained out of Caesar but he couldn’t seem to stop thinking or talking. “Dyrrachium won’t be our end. The spirit of the army is still good. The men just need a bit of a rest. That’s all.”

“As do you.”

Caesar’s eyes slid shut. “Sextus…”

“Stop,” Sextus whispered with iron resolve.

Caesar’s voice was small and vulnerable. “What about Lucius?”

Sextus leaned in close to Caesar’s ear. “You sleep and I’ll find him.”


	2. “What do you want of me, Magnus?”

The tent flap opened and Pompey barked over his shoulder, “Enough discussion. I have made my decision.” 

Pompey’s armor gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. No one mentioned how tight it was on him after years of civilian life in Rome. He stood tall and proud, but he didn’t seem pleased about the victory. Instead, he frowned at everything.

He didn’t wait for a reply. He marched forward, scowling. He went to where the prisoners were sitting on the ground, all tied together at their wrists. He stood, hands on his hips, scanning them.

To a man, they met his gaze. Most of them were thin from the hard campaign and lack of supplies. They were thin, but muscled, and sported all manor of injuries. Even stripped of their armor and weapons, they were mean looking men. None of them cowered. He found the man he was looking for sitting in the center of them. The two stared at each other for a long moment.

He nodded to one of the guards who started to step forward. The prisoners moved to protect the man in the center.

Pompey held a hand up to stop the guards from forcibly moving them. His mouth twitched in pained humor. “Lucius Caesar, as if I would harm you,” he drawled.

Lucius was no better than his men, covered in dirt and dried blood and sweat. He held Pompey’s gaze for a moment longer. Then he smiled for the others and briefly touched the men next to him. He nodded for them all to move aside.

Pompey nodded for the guard to go ahead. The guard cut Lucius’ bonds and hauled him to his feet. He kept a grip on Lucius’ arm and escorted him to Pompey.

Pompey tilted his head to the side and started walking. Lucius kept pace. Two guards trailed behind within sight, but not hearing distance.

Pompey led them to the perimeter of the camp, away from the tents and the prying eyes of the exhausted troops and the senators who thought they knew more than him. He cleared his throat. “I’m surprised you let yourself be captured.”

Lucius faced forward. “I told any man who would stand with me that I wouldn’t quit the field before he did.”

“You fought quite the rear action. One soldier told me that it was like facing a pride of lions.” Pompey sighed, almost wistfully. “Do you remember the lions we saw in the East?”

One end of Lucius’ mouth quirked up but he didn’t look at Pompey. “I do.”

Pompey shook his head and smiled ruefully. “So much raw, compact power.”

“Yes,” Lucius agreed but offered no more.

“The world was so big back then, so full of possibility.”

Lucius chuckled but still didn’t look at Pompey. “We were young.”

Pompey laughed. “Oh, I miss those days. I miss the thrill. I miss the exotic places.” He suddenly frowned again. “I miss the space to breathe. I miss you at my right hand.” He angrily tossed his head back in direction of the camp. “I never had cause to doubt your reasoning or motives when you proposed a plan of action.”

“That was a long time ago.”

Pompey went on as if Lucius hadn’t spoken. “Now, I’m saddled with half the Senate and they can’t tells their asses from their elbows. They peck at me like crows.”

“Most of them aren’t that intelligent,” Lucius replied dryly and finally looked at him. His expression was neutral. “What do you want of me, Magnus?”

Pompey stopped and clutched Lucius’ arm. “I relied on you once. I would rely on you again.”

Lucius didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. “What would you have me do?”

Pompey squeezed. “Convince Caesar to surrender.”

Lucius snorted a quiet laugh. “We both know what he would say to that.”

“He would listen to you,” Pompey hissed.

It was Lucius’ turn to toss his head in the direction of the command tent. He bared his teeth in a disdainful sneer. “I would not have him surrender to them. They would strip all of us of our dignitas.”

“He crossed the Rubicon!” Pompey shouted in Lucius’ face. “He marched an army into Rome.”

Lucius didn’t try to back up. He met Pompey’s challenging stare. His tone got lower, more controlled, and cold as ice. “As if you have never done the same.”

Pompey dropped Lucius’ arm as if he’d been burned. His eyes got wide. He reared up to his full height. He opened his mouth to spit something venomous.

Lucius didn’t give him the chance. “You camped your army outside Rome when you came back from Spain. You held no other office before and had no legal right. You forced the Senate to give you your first consulship. The optimates hated you for that. They’ve always hated you.”

“Lucius--” Pompey tried to interrupt. His mind whirled. 

Lucius overrode him, still quiet, but furious and indignant. “And you’ve joined them. You forgot your familial and friendship ties to us. Caesar’s first consulship was devoted to ratifying your measures in the East and getting land for your veterans.” 

“Our veterans, Lucius. You were right there with me,” Pompey interrupted. “Most of those Eastern dispositions were your idea.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “You were commanding general,” he continued relentlessly. “It was all in your name and that never bothered me. It’s you who have forgotten. You’ve forgotten all our sleepless nights and Bibulus buzzing about us like a demented bee. One of your new allies opposed us every step of the way.” 

“Lucius,” Pompey snapped.

Lucius didn’t stop. He grabbed Pompey’s shoulder and leaned in close to his ear. “Our dear Julia loved you and died giving birth to your child,” he whispered scornfully. “You spit on her memory by joining them. They’re using you against Caesar and you can’t see it. You will never be one of them. You’ll always be the butcher from Picenum.”

“Enough!” Pompey shouted and waved for the guards. “Take him back to camp. Now!”


	3. “Good luck with that. Rome has made you soft, Magnus. You don’t have the stomach.”

Pompey stood at the entrance to the command tent. It was dark outside but there was a large fire just outside and plenty of candles on the inside. Two soldiers stood guard. Sounds of men filtered from all around them and there was a smell of roasted meat from multiple fires.

Pompey half turned to look down at Lucius. He attempted to smile benignly but there was a hostile, arrogant edge to it. “Can we attempt to be civil?”

Lucius sat on the ground in the corner of the tent. His hands and feet were tied. He was still and relaxed. He held a half empty cup of wine in his palms and quietly watched Pompey. He inclined his head. “Of course,” he replied graciously.

Pompey pointed out. “I have a great army here, Lucius.” He puffed his chest out in pride. “I outnumber Caesar by a substantial margin.”

Lucius sipped his wine. “Our men are battle tested,” he answered reasonably. “You have fresh recruits and foreign auxiliaries. Which group would you rather have?”

Pompey was still smiling at the sight of his extensive camp. He waved an arm. “It won’t matter if your men are overwhelmed.” 

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Or there are just more of them to turn tail and run. You know you could’ve saved more of their lives if you had pressed the issue. You didn’t and Caesar has time to regroup.” He paused to smirk. “Perhaps, you should surrender to him.”

Pompey spluttered and turned red in the face. “Lucius,” he said, aghast.

Lucius grinned, all teeth. “My cousin believes in clemency.”

Pompey growled and pointed at Lucius. “Don’t presume too much upon my affection. Many of my allies wish to see you dead.”

“The same allies who will wish the same of you when you’ve fulfilled your purpose?”

Pompey waved that off indignantly. “They have accepted me.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “Is that really what you think?”

Pompey strode over to Lucius and leaned over at him. He pounded his own chest. “Yes,” he snarled. He took a deep breath only to shout in Lucius’ face. “I’m the first man in Rome! Me! Caesar must still fight me and I will crush him.” He was shaking in his anger. He slapped the cup out of Lucius’ hands. “You would do well to reconsider convincing Caesar to surrender. I don’t wish to kill him.”

Lucius didn’t look away from Pompey. Whereas Pompey was red in the face with a vein throbbing in his forehead, Lucius was calm and cool. He kept his tone light and firm. “If we surrender, whatever is left to us would be worse than death and you know it. The optimates would destroy all of us.” He sighed. “You haven’t left us a choice. We have to continue fighting.”

Pompey didn’t drop his gaze but his voice was quieter, “Caesar must be brought to heel.”

Lucius snickered. “Good luck with that. Rome has made you soft, Magnus. You don’t have the stomach.”

Pompey suddenly rubbed his eyes. “I can’t convince you to help me, can I?”

Lucius shook his head. “No.”

Pompey grimaced in pain. “We shall be enemies then.” He slowly straightened up. He turned with a swirl of his scarlet general’s cape and stalked out.

Lucius waited until tent flap was down and the sound of Pompey’s stomping and armor clanking faded away. He shut his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He frowned. “There’s nothing for it. This fight only ends when one of them is dead.”

“And that won’t be Gaius,” Sextus hissed, crawling in under the back wall of Pompey’s tent.

Lucius tilted his head to see Sextus out of the corner of his eye. “Took you long enough,” he drawled.

“So sorry,” Sextus grumbled. “I had to wait for the old windbag to leave.” He scrambled over to Lucius to cut his bonds. “Are you all right?”

Lucius rubbed his wrists. “Yes. How did you manage to get into camp?”

Sextus looked Lucius up and down, checking him for injuries. “There are certain members of this army who aren’t as loyal as Pompey would wish. There are some who will never forget their service to a better man in Gaul.”

Lucius gave a chilly smile. “Now, you understand why Caesar gave up those two legions without a fight when the Senate demanded them a couple years ago.”

Sextus rolled his eyes. “For the so-called Parthian invasion. The Senate is full of lying sacks of horseshit.” He grabbed Lucius’ arm and helped him stand. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

Lucius stood but shook his head. “I can’t leave yet.”

Sextus bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet. “Why not?”

Lucius smacked Sextus in the back of the head. “My men. I wasn’t captured alone.”

Sextus growled. “We’ll get caught if we try to take them with us.”

Lucius growled right back. “And Pompey will execute them when he discovers I’m gone. I told those men I wouldn’t quit the field without them.”

“But--”

Lucius smacked Sextus in the back of the head again. “We’ll leave them a dagger to cut themselves loose and tell them to scatter. They can try to slip through Pompey’s lines on their own.”

Sextus folded his arms across his chest. “Fine,” he muttered petulantly. “You’d better tell them to give us a ten minute head start before they create any chaos. And I will not tell them where our camp is.”

“No. We’ll set up a meeting point. Whoever isn’t there by sundown tomorrow will be presumed dead because none of them will let himself be taken prisoner again.”

Sextus nodded and grabbed Lucius’ arm. “Okay, can we go now?”

Lucius grinned and it was terrifying and lethal. “Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dyrrachium was the closest Pompey came to defeating Caesar but he didn't press his advantage. Pompey gave Caesar time to regroup and lead to the battle of Pharsalus.


End file.
